


Paint Me Like The Night Sky

by thelordofstarsanddreams



Series: A Tale of Modern Times [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Paint, College, F/M, Fate, In Every World, Modern Era, Painting, Sex, Sexy Time, Shower Sex, Showers, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7958179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelordofstarsanddreams/pseuds/thelordofstarsanddreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feyre needs Rhysand for one of her college projects which involves him getting painted from head to toe and afterwards, they help clean each other off in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint Me Like The Night Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt I got on tumblr continuing the joys of the Modern AU. This time it's Feysand, and I just can't cope with how perfect the dynamic is between this two. Smutty progression so NSFW.

Having an art student as a fiancée certainly proved to be interesting at times.

Feyre had always been an out of the box thinker, and as she'd advanced each year in college, her projects had only become more flamboyant with the necessary need to display her skills. 

From the day they had moved into together, Rhysand had been encouraging of his partner's talents. The apartment he owned was spacious, and he'd dedicated one of the spare rooms to giving Feyre a space to make her gallery, never hesitating buy supplies when she needed them. The woman would never ask and always protested when he did help out but what was the point of having money if he couldn't assist the woman he loved? Especially if it all contributed towards her graduating and getting her degree.

That however, often meant that Rhys got roped into being the subject of many of her pieces. Usually it didn't extend beyond sitting for some sketches or paintings, though at times it got slightly more experimental.

Like that particular day. 

Everything in Feyre's studio had been removed or pushed to the walls, to make way for a massive roll out canvas which had been spread across the floor. 

The goal was to combine both photographic prints and the completed canvas to show for one of her final projects.

Painstakingly, the woman had encouraged Rhys into what could only be described as a speedo and had painted him from head to foot. His body was a story. A canvas of blues and purples. A roaring sea which spread into rising trees against a rippling night sky. Stars, moons, he was a walking piece of art. 

Almost four hours later once he was totally painted to Feyre's high standard and she'd taken more photos than he thought possible, he'd been made to lay on the canvas, flat on the floor, toes pointed, hands by his side, as the woman had splattered him with more paint. Long streaks, matching the colours on his body, until finally highlighting them with flicks of white, yellow and silver. 

When he rose, carefully stepping aside, there was a perfect outline of his body. A white space with what almost looked like the very galaxy above radiating from the blank form. It was beautiful. Truly his fiancée had outdone herself. 

It was moments like that which assured Rhysand even more so that she was destined for galleries, for fame and for the recognition she deserved. 

“I desperately need a shower,” Rhys murmured, looking down at his coated body, fearful to touch any surface for fear of leaving streaks even if the paint was well dried on his skin. “And you, darling, are helping me. This is a two person job,” A playful smirk crept onto his lips as he took Feyre's hand, pulling her close to him, the woman already in her painting clothes and streaked with colour herself.

A soft laugh rose from the artist's lips as she settled against her fiancé, tracing a patch of stars at his chest, leaning up to kiss his colour streaked mouth. “Come on then. You're going to completely ruin the bathroom,” Feyre chuckled, lacing her fingers with Rhys' as she tugged him from the studio, eager to let the canvas dry and get him washed off before he touched any of the expensive furniture the apartment was filled with.

Ushered into the bathroom, Feyre left the man to peel off the only item of clothing he'd been given as she moved to run the water, letting it heat up. 

When she turned back, Rhys was standing fully naked, and the woman couldn't help but stare for a little while, admiring how beautiful he was. The strong form of his body was beautifully contrasted against the white tiles of the bathroom.

“If you keep staring at me like that I'm going to have to start charging.”

A blush immediately heated Feyre's features. Despite the years that they had been together, he still managed to make her squirm. “Get in the damned shower, Rhys,” She hissed, turning her back to him as she began stripping off her own clothes, hearing him cross to the shower.

When she was naked, the artist turned towards the shower, finding Rhys under the flow of the water which was running in a muddle of colours and Feyre couldn't help but wish that she had her camera again. 

Stepping in alongside Rhys, the woman pressed her hands to his hips, brushing her thumb along the skin to smudge the running paint, stepping a little closer to press her chest against his back, kissing his shoulder. “Thank you for today. I know it was a little extreme.”

The laugh which rumbled in the man's chest was low and deep and rattled through Feyre. “Anytime, darling.”

Droplets of colour swirled across his swarthy skin, washing away as the warm water continued to beat down on them. As if sensing her distraction, Rhys turned to face his fiancée, his arms curling around her waist, almost instinctively leaning down to capture her lips with his own.

This was why they never showered together when they had somewhere to be. 

A soft giggle echoed from Feyre as her back pressed against the wall and she felt Rhys fingers trail along the inside of her thigh and she couldn't help but wonder if he had left a trail of purple or blue along her skin. The thought however disappeared as his fingers nudged against her clit in a teasing sweep and a gasp was pulled from her lips.

“You are exquisite,” Rhysand purred, dropping his mouth to the dip of her neck, teeth grazing along her skin, and before she could protest or even respond, the man had slipped two fingers within her, crooking them in just the right way so Feyre's legs almost immediately gave way from under her. 

“You're a prick,” The words were hissed into Rhys' shoulder, her fingers dragging along his back, disturbing the lingering paint there, so it left long trails along his skin. 

“You love me though,” It was hard to argue when he had began to move his digits, thrusting them slowly but surely, almost lazy in his actions as his thumb circled her clit in firm strokes. There was no response, other than the sound of Feyre's gasp as he prompted her quickly into climaxing against his hand.

The woman's breathing was quick and labored, yet Rhysand barely gave her a moment as he slid his fingers free in order to hitch her further up the wall, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. The floor of the shower and the tiled walls were splattered with paint, yet Feyre was no longer as interested in the colour as she had been, not when she felt the press of Rhys' hard cock against her leg. 

“Rhys...” Despite the fact that she had only managed to calm her breathing to a degree, there was a demanding note to Feyre's tone that the man knew all too well. The kind which silently threatened that if he didn't immediately fuck her, she would leave him blue balled for the next twenty-four hours. He was always a man to comply. 

Without further hesitation, Rhys angled his hips, using his hands tucked beneath the curve of Feyre's ass to keep her supported as he slid himself inside of her in a swift thrust. The artist swallowed his moans as their lips met, the kiss itself hungry and deep, Feyre's fingers curling within the dark strands of Rhys' hair, tugging slightly at his scalp as the man settled into a rough pace.

One hand dragged upwards from the plump curve of her backside to the full swell of her breast, groping her tender flesh. When Feyre came this time, the tight squeeze of her around him had Rhysand following moments later, spilling into her with a low groan of pleasure, murmuring her name through gritted teeth. 

Their heavy breaths mingled, foreheads resting together and when Rhys' eyes met her own, Feyre couldn't help but grin at him, nudging his nose lightly with her own. “This doesn't excuse you from cleaning the shower,” The woman teased, laughing as Rhys groaned, nipping playfully at her jaw. 

“Way to ruin the moment, darling.”


End file.
